


Sobriety

by RedRoseCarnage



Series: RaM twitter threads [5]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Angsty?, C137cest, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Platonic C137cest, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Very Bad Alcohol Withdrawal Symptoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27213337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseCarnage/pseuds/RedRoseCarnage
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Series: RaM twitter threads [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962736
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Sobriety

Rick falls down the stairs one night or just hurts himself pretty badly because he was drunk af, as usual. Morty finds him the next morning and inquires him about his broken wrist or arm or something, how did it happen and most importantly why didn’t he heal himself until then.  Rick tells Morty he can’t just do that all the time because it would ruin the whole experience of being human and he’d lose the fun inherent to all of that for example breaking bones and hurting oneself. He tells Morty that was one of the few things he still found some fun in.

Morty keeps pressing him about it and he finally gives in, telling him he was drunk as always but at that point falling to the ground and hurting himself were common events. Morty, worried about his grandpa, tries convincing Rick to stop drinking. 

He doesn’t know much about Rick’s backstory and his close, deep rooted relationship with alcoholism. Beth forbade that kind of talk back when Morty was still a baby and it was only briefly mentioned by Summer with ironic undertones when Rick moved in with them.  It wasn’t like she knew much either, only what she overheard as a kid when her parents fought, before her little brother was born. 

Morty didn’t know much about his own grandpa but he knew enough to realize even asking Rick to do something like that sounded stupidly naive.  Rick scoffs and plays it down, not really paying attention to him. But he notices the way Morty looks down, feeling ignored once again. He’s used to it, really. 

Rick, being overwhelmed by his irrational attachment, tells Morty he’ll think about it.  It’s a good enough answer for Morty, for the meantime. A few days pass by and Morty eventually forgets about it.

Until he’s going to his bedroom upstairs one night and hears a soul wracking scream coming from the garage, one of those screams that freeze your entire body.  He runs there as fast as he can, tumbling on his pjs and falling midway through the kitchen. He finds Rick squirming and screaming as if he’s being tortured, even though he’s still asleep on the improvised bed he’d usually set up on long distance trips across space on his ship.

Morty is about to wake him up when Rick wakes himself up due to his own spams and screams. He sweats, a cold sweat dripping down his forehead as he stares back at Morty, who looks just as terrified as him.  His heart feels like it's beating out of his chest when he grabs Morty and brings him close to an embrace, attempting to soothe him and himself. The boy promptly jumps on the ship and into his grandpa’s arms. No words are exchanged between them.

Morty cries and secures Rick’s back on a tight hug. Rick pets Morty’s hair, playing with his curls around his thin fingers. ‘W- what was that?’, Morty asks, still shaken.

‘It sounded like- it felt like you were in a lot of pain, Rick.’ Rick chuckles and kisses Morty’s forehead.

How, just how do you explain your long history of alcoholism and how it affected, has been affecting, your previous and current relationships to your grandson in the middle of the night? 

‘Yeah, that was probably my soul begging for help since I haven’t been drunk in days.’

Morty backs away, breaking the hug to stare at his grandpa, surprised. Oddly enough, Rick seems honest this time and Morty believes him. Then again, Rick has lied so many times to him when he thought he was being honest… 

‘Y- you really did that!?’ Rick brushes Morty’s cheek.

‘For you, buddy.’ Morty can’t help but blush every time Rick says that. He’s so glad he actually means something to someone in this house. He figures it out. 

‘It’s- it’s the abstinence right? That makes you like that. I wish there was something I could do to help you…’

Rick gives him a warm smile, a rare one. He saves them mostly for Morty and once showed it to Beth as well. 

‘Y- you’re already helping me, sweetie.’ Morty snaps Rick’s hand off his cheek.  ‘No, I mean I actually wanna do something for you not just- not just sit and watch!!’

He starts tearing up, a hot burning feeling coming from the back of his throat as he envelops Rick again. Rick returns it, his hand covering most of Morty’s waist. 

‘Y- y- you’ve done so much for us, for me… please let me help you Rick.’

Rick strokes Morty’s back up and down. He gently pushes him away. 

‘O- okay Morty. Let’s get some sleep, first. Go back to your bedroom, I’m fine now, see?’ Morty pouts.  What if it happens again? What if he doesn’t listen this time? What if Rick relapses? What if he hurts himself?

‘No, I’m sleeping here tonight.’ 

Morty only realizes how demanding he sounds after he sees the look on Rick’s face and quickly takes it back. 

‘C- can I sleep here tonight? Please.’ Rick can’t say no when Morty uses his puppy eyes. Especially when he’s wearing his banana pjs.

‘Sure thing, sweetie.’ 

Sure, the improvised bed is big enough for two but it’s still a spaceship built from things Rick found in the garage so you can’t expect much of it. Regardless of its origin, it feels comfortable and being besides his grandpa helps Morty relax.

Little did he know that was the last normal convo he’d have with Rick. Oh if only Morty could see the future and cherish that moment a bit more before things got dark and violent and sad…

* * *

The next few days were hell on Earth. Rick’s mood swings, originally thought to be a part of his personality, got increasingly worse and his nighttime cravings made The Smiths lose sleep. Jerry decides to approach Beth one morning in the kitchen as she’s cooking breakfast.

‘Honey’, he starts, tiptoeing. Beth is Rick’s daughter after all and is also prone to mood swings, like her father. You can never be too careful with The Sanchez. 

‘I think we should put your father in a rehab center’, he says pulling a brochure out of his pocket.

He puts the brochure on the kitchen table. It lands with a snap, breaking the awkward silence between them. Beth calls the kids for breakfast and quickly looks over the brochure. 

‘Jerry, can we- can we discuss this later? When I’m _not_ on my way to work?’

‘Maybe after dinner, okay?’ She gives him a goodbye kiss, in a hurry for work. 

Beth slams the car door and drives off, leaving her husband in the entryway. It reminds her of a far away memory, one she believed to have forgotten. Like father like daughter, right?

The rest of the family has breakfast together, except for Rick who’s still asleep in the garage. Morty is not so sure of that though, since he did hear sniffs when he tried calling for his grandpa to let him know breakfast was ready.

Morty is about to wake Rick up but Summer grabs him by his shirt, saying she can’t be late  _ again _ this week or else she’ll get detention which would make their parents ground her the whole weekend, missing Ethan’s party on Saturday. Her last chance to be around the cool kids.

They leave for school and Jerry finishes his breakfast. Alone. 

‘Ahh guess it’s another day uselessly applying for jobs, right?’, he tells himself as he goes upstairs to change. 

Rick drags his body to the kitchen and opens his cabinet, whiskey and vodka bottles face him.

‘I’m sorry, Morty’, he muffles between crying and drinking. His lips instantly attracted to the bottle like a man lost in the desert quenching his thirst.

He drinks half the bottles when Jerry finds him sobbing on the floor, his tight grip around a razor blade.

Beth’s husband is taken aback but doesn't panic freezes, like his son. 

‘H- hey Rick, buddy, give me that will you?’ He starts negotiating. ‘It’s not safe.’  Rick is so drunk he can barely make himself understandable and babbles like a child. 

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’

‘Rick, hand over the blade please. Before you do something stupid with it’, Jerry’s hands, once so confident and stable, start shaking with nervousness.  After all, it’s not like he hadn’t seen his father in law’s former cuts. They were arranged all over his arms.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’, Rick repeats to himself. Jerry comes closer, careful not to startle Rick. When he’s close enough, they start a convo. 

‘W- what are you sorry about, Rick?’ He puts a hand over his in law’s back, feeling his vertebrae.

With his free hand, he quickly but subtly grabs the blade from Rick’s hand.

Despite Rick’s famous annoyance towards Jerry, he pulls him in for a hug. Jerry isn’t sure about returning it at first but gives in anyways. 

‘I- I told Morty I’d quit drinking but I can’t.’

Jerry opens his mouth to give him a word of comfort but Rick keeps talking. 

‘I- I thought- It felt like I was slowly dying, man.’ 

Jerry doesn’t know how to react, especially when he’s facing the rehab brochure he brought home a few days prior.

Jerry, with all his mundane thought process, helps lift him up and brings him to the kitchen table. 

‘Why don’t you have breakfast first, hmm? How about that?’ Rick looks down, not wanting to face him. 

‘C’mon, I’ll make it for you!! What about some pancakes, Rick?’

Rick cleans up a bit of snot with his arm and dries his tears. 

‘T- that’d be nice, Jerry. Thank you.’ 

After breakfast and that suicide attempt, Jerry feels too insecure leaving Rick on his own so he stays in all day, making sure his in law doesn’t off himself.

It was easy, actually since Rick slept nearly the entire afternoon until the kids arrived from school. 

Morty comes home to his grandpa screaming once again and drops his school bag on the hallway, running towards the garage. He finds Rick throwing objects and punching his dad.

‘R- Rick! Stop that!’ He says, trying to interrupt the fight. Obviously too weak to do so, he calls for his sister. 

‘Summer! A little help here!?’ Lucky for Morty, she didn’t have her headphones on and came down to help. 

‘Grandpa, stop that right now!’

‘Fuck you, Summer!’ Rick’s open hand reaches his granddaughter’s cheek, leaving a burning red mark as she starts whimpering. 

Summer storms out of the room, clearly pissed off. 

‘H- hey Rick, I think you went too far. You can’t say eff you to your granddaughter like that…’

Jerry goes after Summer, trying to calm her down before Beth comes home and finds out about all this mess. Rick stares at Morty like a pulsar, full of energy and violence.

‘Oh yeah? Well, here’s dessert : fuck you, Morty!’ His enraged fist meets Morty’s face as he falls down.

Morty’s tears don’t immediately come due to the initial shock. Just a few days ago, Rick let him sleep besides him and played with his hair and called him pet names.

Now Morty’s facing him from the ground, afraid to even make eye contact.

Rick reaches for his flask and takes a sip. His brain floods with dopamine and serotonin, calming him down. He realizes what took place and guilt starts eating away at him. 

‘Morty, I’m so sorry’, he tries to reach for his grandson but he backs away.

Morty wants to believe in Rick one more time, so he shuts down his fears and hugs his grandpa. A clinging hug.

‘Oh my god, I’m sorry sweetie’, he takes a closer look at Morty’s bruised cheek. ‘I’m so sorry, I’ll make the pain go away I swear’, he kisses Morty’s cheek.

Morty’s hands envelop Rick’s. He notices Rick’s flask under his lab coat.

‘Can’t you- can’t you create a potion to treat your alcoholism or something?’ Rick chuckles. How naive. Morty looks down.

‘At least, we wouldn’t suffer so much. As a family, y’know.’

Rick is aware how much of a burden he is to his family, always has been. From the day he decided to leave Beth to the day he impulsively went back into their lives. He just didn’t expect Morty, of all people, to tell him that.

* * *

Dinner comes and no one says a word. Beth is the only one in the mood for chatting since everybody has had their fair share of Rick’s abstinence symptoms, except for her. 

‘Morty, what happened to your face? Did someone punch you? Are you getting bullied at school?’

Morty takes a while to acknowledge his mother’s questions, still upset about Rick.

‘Y- yeah I kinda got into a fight today over...Jessica’ No one seems to buy that. 

‘Ha ha ha ha.’  She turns to Summer. 

‘You too!? What the hell is going on with you two??’ 

Summer takes a bite.

‘Grandpa Rick hit us.’ 

Beth turns to her father, who’s finally having dinner with them. 

‘WHAT?! Jerry!!’ 

‘Told you we should have sent him to a rehab center, honey.’ Jerry mindlessly plays on his tablet, wearing a black eye.

She turns to her father once again. Beth knew this was coming when she accepted him back on her life. She expected it wouldn’t affect her children, though.

‘Dad, is this...true?’ Her voice almost disappearing. Beth despised confrontations like that, especially towards Rick.

Rick doesn’t face her. He doesn’t face any of his family members, actually. Too ashamed to do so.

‘Yes, sweetie.’

‘Why?’ 

‘Why’ was a good question. Did Rick have a good enough answer for that though? No, but he did have an explanation.

‘Morty asked me to quit drinking and- and I tried doing it on my own but it clearly didn’t work and I relapsed this morning and I tried cutting myself earlier and then I flipped on them.’  They all look at Rick.

‘Look, I’m sorry I brought all this bullshit to your life, Beth.’

‘To the kids’ lives.’

To everyone’s surprise, Rick starts tearing up. Maybe not so much to Beth since being Rick Sanchez’s daughter meant she’d seen her father emotional countless times, all of them involving booze. The curse that was her father’s and probably her downfall too.

Beth is speechless. I mean, what can she say? 

‘Yeah, you really fucked things up dad. I hate you, go away?' She’s not seven anymore. She can’t just shut the door on his face and tell him to die. 

Beth has a family now and she was the one who brought him in in the first place.

The desire to just shut every feeling down her throat and instantly forgive her dad, not punish him like her mother used to which Beth believed was the reason Rick ran away, seems stronger than her.

Being constantly afraid he’d leave turned Beth into an even more nervous woman.  She’d end up taking it out on her own children, just like Rick once did to her. It is true what they say : eventually, we all become our parents no matter how hard one tries to run away from it. And Beth hates it.

She can’t realize that becoming like Rick won’t make him stay, it’ll just drive her children further away.

‘Dad’, softly at first. Like one calling a frightened child.

‘It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay to hit any of us but we’ll work this out together, like a family.’

Her warm hand reaches for Rick’s, gently cupping them. A tear drops from her blue eyes and Rick dries it as she chuckles.

‘Like a real family’, he finishes.

* * *

The Smiths spend weeks waking up to screams in the middle of the night, handling fights and abrupt discussions in the morning, hiding and even throwing away booze in the afternoon and securing most sharp objects away from Rick’s sight at night. Most, but not all of them.

Morty finishes jerking off one night and comes down for a glass of water when he notices some dark droplets on the kitchen floor. Turning on the lights reveals their crimson colour and Morty nearly drops his glass.

‘W- what the hell...RICK!’

Rick’s laying on the ground, legs spread open just like his wrist. A deep cut was made, not horizontally like the others but vertically and blood flows everywhere, creating a pool besides his elderly body where a blood soaked screw is also found.

‘MOM, DAD, SUMMER!!’

Morty tries improvising a tourniquet, grabbing a dish cloth nearby and tightening it around Rick’s wrist. He saw that all the time on tv shows and movies. However, unlike the reality shown on tv, Rick’s blood was flowing out way quicker than Morty thought.

Beth and Jerry come running down the stairs, almost bumping into Summer on the way there. Despite Beth’s initial freeze, she takes her father into her arms and, with Morty’s and Summer’s help, they manage to drag him to the car.

‘Jerry, c’mon!’ She bangs on the car door.

They drive off and, facing his grandpa’s head resting on his lap, Morty keeps Rick conscient enough. He tells him about his day at school and about all the adventures they ever went on and how fun they were. Morty can feel Rick passing away and Summer tries warming up his hands.

They drop him off and spend the night there, barely able to sleep on those plastic hospital chairs, the most uncomfortable objects ever created by men.

In the morning, the doctor lets them know Rick will have to spend some time there before he’s ready to return home safely.

Jerry comforts his wife as best as he can but Beth’s wails are hard to dismiss and even harder to deal with. Summer turns to her brother and Morty, naturally an empath, comforts her. But who does Morty turn to, at the end of the day? His pain goes unnoticed by his family.

Rick, with all his history of despising being told what to do, complies for the first time and agrees to stay at the hospital. He has upset his family too much and made them go through a lot. More trouble is definitely something their mental health can’t afford right now.

Days go by and drag themselves into weeks. Summer rebels by going out every night to drink with the cool kids, certain that her parents will freak out and ground her, give her a crumb of attention and care. Which doesn’t happen. At all.

Beth is too busy working. Working and constantly thinking about her father, the image of his blood spewing slit wrist burned in her mind, never to leave again.

She comes back home in tears most days, drowning her sorrows on cheap wine bottles scattered around the residence.

Jerry is the only one Beth can rely on and, as a result, he ends up overwhelmed, carrying the burden of failing his father in law and his wife’s premature grief. He had saved Rick once, why couldn’t he the second time? Because Jerry always fails. At work, at home.

What about Morty? Grandpa’s little boy, Morty. Clearly his favorite since he was younger, Morty delighted in the fact that Rick made sure it was obvious he was his preferred grandkid. And knowing that is what made Morty’s anger, although he denied it, more understandable.

How could someone who loves me so much just try ending his own life like that? Did I do something? Is it my fault because I suggested he’d stop drinking? Am I being selfish feeling anger towards him? How will I face him after he’s back home? Is he angry with me? Does he hate me?

Morty hated even thinking about these questions but they wouldn’t leave him alone. Anxious as he was, they’d keep repeating themselves until he got distracted with something else. Which wasn’t gonna happen any time soon. That was one hard image to forget about…

* * *

After a couple weeks of worries, both for her father and for her rebellious kids, Beth feels relieved knowing Rick was finally discharged, the old man somewhat happy for being free from such a controlling environment.

‘We need a blood sample, Mr Sanchez. Take this pill, Mr Sanchez. Be cooperative with the staff, Mr Sanchez.’

Rick has had enough of that when he was younger and still respectful of government organizations telling him, the smartest man in the universe, what to do.

Okay, maybe ‘respectful’ was a little too much. Rick Sanchez has never respected anyone but himself (and versions of himself) in all those years of space travelling.

I mean, he tolerated the government and its issues. Yes, he could tolerate them. For Beth, for the kids.

Jerry is accompanied by his children on his way to the hospital since Beth would work a longer shift that hot Wednesday afternoon. They wait and wait and wait for what seemed insanely long hours until Rick’s name was announced by a bored to death nurse.

‘Mr Sanchez!’ 

They promptly get up from the clear blue plastic chairs.

‘Are you Mr Sanchez’s family?’

‘Unfortunately’, Jerry sighs. Even though his black eye’s gone, he still resents his in law’s violent outburst towards him and his children.

‘Dad! Don’t be a dick.’

Rick’s slim figure and his messy light blue hair stick out when he’s walking down the white hallway. Motivational posters are plastered all over the walls.

One says ‘Hang in there!’ next to a drawing of a kitten hanging on a tree branch. Jerry finishes signing a discharge form.

Summer goes towards her personal hero and hugs him tight. Rick isn’t very familiar or comfortable with hugs, especially from his family but warms up to it and returns it.

He pets her pumpkin colored, Halloween themed hair. Summer will always be his special little girl, after Beth.

‘W- where’s Beth? I thought- didn’t you say she was coming along too, Jerry?’ Rick said, with Summer clinging on him like a small child clings to their parents.

‘Yeah, she had a change of plans this week. Working a longer shift today. She won’t be home until 8pm.’

Jerry keeps his distance, unsure about how well Rick’s sudden outbursts had been handled those previous weeks at the hospital. He doesn’t wanna risk getting another black eye.

‘I see…’ Rick reaches out and Jerry shakes his hand. He gives Jerry a shy smile.

‘Hey, hmm. Sorry about your eye, man.’ Rick turns to the kids.

‘Sum sum, I’m sorry I slapped you. That was such a dick move.’ Summer comfortably rests her head on his chest.

‘Morty…’ His grandson won’t even look him in the eye. Morty stares down at the white, polished floor.

He tries reaching out for Morty but the boy shuts off, retreating to his own pain and hurt, mostly caused by Rick.  Morty can feel the lump on his throat getting bigger and holding back tears becomes a harder job.

‘Okay, let’s go home!’ Jerry interrupts, feeling the atmosphere.

Morty holds back his suffering and marches to the car with heavy steps. Summer takes the front seat, leaving Rick and Morty alone with each other.

Morty faces the window all the way back home, quietly sobbing. Good thing the radio’s on.

Rick figures it’s best to wait. Wait ‘til Morty has calmed down a bit. Wait ‘til the frustration and sadness and anger have loosened the grip around his childish heart. Wait ‘til Morty has forgotten (or forgiven) what his grandpa looked like when completely intoxicated.

Rick heads to his room. Not the improvised one on the garage but his proper room. An extra room Beth had cleaned out just for him when he moved out. He jumps on the bed and stares at the downbeat ceiling, his frail body heavy with...guilt? Or was it shame?

Why would he, out of all people, feel guilty? Guilty about what, exactly? His drinking? Because Morty and Summer were the ones at the end of his auto destructive behavior this time? Because they witnessed it? As long as it was a closeted indulgence, Rick was fine with it.

It was the sight of his grandchildren recognizing how much of a fucked up mess he actually was under all that genius that made Rick feel like complete crap. Realizing he wasn’t able, no matter how hard he tried, to run away from his humanity and foolishness.

That’s something no amount of booze could conceal.

Rick ends up falling asleep, his head filled with these bad, useless thoughts.  He faces the wall as he hears the door creak open, small, light feet coming in.

‘Can I- can I stay here for a while?’, Morty stutters, cuddling his grandpa.

Rick gives him a warm smile.  ‘Sure, babe.’


End file.
